Sunrise, Sunset
by nevisveli
Summary: "...they would always be together and happy, and as she twirls under the leaves of the Godswood holding Edmure by the hand and Lysa two steps behind them singing happily to herself she really believes it.


**_Sunrise, Sunset_**

**_"I loved a maid as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair." _**

**_Life is a long fought bloody battle, especially with no one at your side. Watch for me, little cat…_**

_This is my first attempt to write ASOIAF, I haven't actually read the books but I'm familiar with them and especially Catlyn Stark's life history, since she is the newest book character I'm obsessed with. This is just an attempt to put my Cat feelings into writing as a way of letting her go, (ouch! it still hurts) mainly to comfort myself. If you notice anything mistaken about the content, like names, facts or events happening in the wrong way or whatever please let me know. Luvs Nevis_

** I. Six**

She is only weeks away from celebrating her sixth name day when they are abruptly woken up one day by their mother's screams.

Her heart beating in terror, she watches the door open and her sister enter with eyes swollen with tears. Her hair is a red curly bush as she runs towards Catlyn's bed to crash into her open arms.

The door opens one more time, this time to reveal an old woman with stern looks, their severe Septa Imagelle, whose face never shows a warm gesture.

But this time her look has somehow softened, a worried frown deepening her brow, as she sees both sisters curled around each other, sweet Lysa still sobbing in her sister's arms.

She mildly lectures the girls not to be sad, as that is not the way to greet their brother into the world of the living.

_"She shouldn't say that if it isn't for sure",_ Cat thinks. People had said that for Lysa too. They had said Lady Minisa of the house of Whent was going to give birth to Riverrun's heir and they had all been wrong. Cat remembered her father's look of disappointment when he was announced he was now father of two girls, and she would hate to see that again. She had found her three year old self trying to exculpate her mother by shouting at Lord Hoster that a girl is as good as any stinking boy and then slipping through hands that tried to hold her, so she could run into Lady Minisa's quarters.

Another scream pierces the air, a sense of stinging fear lingering in the castle.

Her sister lets out a gasp and she snuggles Cat more tightly, her pale arms circling her sister's waist. Her cheeks have turned brilliant red and her eyes seem to be two dewy flowers. Cat craddles Lysa's head against her breast, rocking their bodies back and forth while she shushes in her ear.

** II. Eight**

She is eight and blissful, as are the days that she spends in Riverrun. Her home is open and bright, with illuminated halls and walls filled with children's joyous laughter.

They spend most of their days outside, Lysa follows her in the godswood, clutching her leg, panting with swift breaths as she has been trying for an hour to catch the golden brown butterflies that dance in the summer air. Cat tries to explain to her that butterflies cannot be caught, as their wings are too agile and skillful, but Lysa stubbornly keeps running around in circles until she gets dizzy and finally falls onto her bum. Cat laughs as she sits beside her sister, enjoying the feeling of the soft grass tickling her feet. The rays kiss her face, making her skin glow and her hair shine as she turns her nose toward the sun.

They hear a babe squeal _"Cat"_ and Lysa has now forgotten her butterflies; she raises her head with her cheeks forming dimples :

"Edmure!"

Cat stands in her knees, letting her skirts fall beside her like a curtain and she opens her arms to her two year old brother who runs with chubby feet towards her. She catches him around the middle and holds him one foot above the ground, suddenly remembering he is too heavy for her to carry.

The moment he had slid out of Lady Minisa's womb, he had been named a blessing by the gods. A healthy born child had been unexpected since he had made her body palpitate in pain for almost four days.

Cat remembered her father lifting her and Lysa up so they could see their brother sleeping peacefully in his crib. Her mother had laughed with weak trembling lips when Cat had then tried to hold her brother with her little arms, her father doing it for her instead, and placing the babe in her mother's lap, Minisa's own arms being too heavy to lift so she could hold her so much desired son.  
Cat had thought she would be jealous when her brother would come, when the _true heir _of the Riverlands would be born, but right then jealousy was the last feeling she was having, as she saw Edmure making water bubbles with his mouth and her father place a loving kiss in his wife's brow.

She had thought that everything would go right for them, that they would always be together and happy, and as she twirls under the leaves of the godswood holding Edmure by the hand and Lysa two steps behind them singing happily to herself she really believes it.

_Two days later Minisa Tully goes into labor._

** III. Three and ten**

Cat is three and ten and Petyr is only two years younger than her, and days part him from her sister Lysa.

Two years seem like ages apart in children's minds, but that doesn't keep them from doing everything together.

He is now nothing like the trembling soiled boy whom Lord Hoster had brought home from The Fingers.

She still remembers waiting with Lysa and little Edmure all morning for their father to return, and when he finally had, he carried with him a rather sudden gift.

Lysa had peeked her head out from Cat's shoulders and observed Petyr with wondering eyes while she clutched her sister's skirts.

Being her sister's age, compared to the bright plump Lysa, he seemed thin and breakable like a leaf, trembling in his wet suit, his eyes ran from one corner to another, until they stopped on Catlyn's gracefully shaped face, and then paused on that copper red hair of hers.

She gave him a reassuring smile, and he could not help but freeze in utter silence.

_The one thing that has not changed in him, are the looks he gives when he sees her._

They run feeling the mud with their bare feet until their guts hurt, and then they start running again. Petyr's eyes follow the swirl of her skirts and she is happy that someone can finally match her pace.

It takes him little effort to outrun her so he can then grab her arm and pull her into the river's rushing waters. It is damp and cold and Cat firstly tries to resist but then finds herself in an unforeseen splashing battle. The tiny drops of water fly everywhere and shimmer in the air as falling crystals.

She pulls her skirts heavily out of the current and laughs heartily as she tries to squeeze out the water from her hair. Petyr jokes that she looks like the castle's dogs, and she gives him the eye but then a louder laugh traps them both and there is no way to stop it.

He looks at her with adoring pleasure and she smiles to him one of her easy smiles, the ones she is proud of, the ones he likes the most.

"Come on!" she challenges him to another race towards the godswood.

Time passes as they run and now his breathing is heavy and his heart is beating so fast she can hear it. His legs are failing him and he is rapidly falling two or three steps behind her.

But Petyr always figures out how to get his way, how to surprise her, and as it seems, he pulls one of her skirts, tripping her and making her fall forward onto her face. The fall is softened by the tall growing grass underneath them and as he had predicted, she is not hurt.

He rolls her body over and sits on her, not letting her move. Still breathing loudly he teases "Get up, Cat! We don't want anyone to see the Lady of Riverrun in this state."

"You cheated!" Her face is brightly flushed, and bits of dirt and grass have stuck to it "You tripped me, you made me fall!" She pushes him with her hands and kicks at him angrily with her legs, trapped underneath his weight. "I could have gotten hurt, Petyr!"

He gazes her with serious eyes, then flashing her a wry smile as he tilts his head deliberately, kissing her swiftly on the forehead. She smells so dreamy, of incense and grass. He dismisses her kicks of protest for freedom and aims for her_ oh so sweet_ lips.

"I would never hurt you, Cat."


End file.
